


I Lived Once

by SeeTheGuyPerson



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 08:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20423204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeTheGuyPerson/pseuds/SeeTheGuyPerson
Summary: The Chosen Undead grapples with their decaying mind and memory.





	I Lived Once

**Author's Note:**

> A quick break from writing my other story because it’s 1:50 in the morning and I’m an unhealthy person.

I lived once.

I’m not entirely sure when, or even where, but I know I was alive.

I was a knight. I know that much. I was at home when we first found out about the Curse of the Undead. I remember... someone. They were the first to show the Darksign. Oh, gods... we burned them alive. More than once. They just... kept coming back... then... then...

Where am I?

I’m kneeling on the ground, I know that. But there’s some pain in my back. I reach back, metal scraping against metal, and pull an arrow out. When did that happen? How did I live?

Right... I lived once.

But I died. But I didn’t? I had the Darksign then, a burning circle on my chest I can feel even now. How long have I had that? What time is it even? I look at the sky but the Sun hasn’t moved in... how long has it stayed there? The sky is just a dim orange, sparse clouds the only sign that things didn’t simply freeze.

Everything is so hot, freezing cold sounds good right about now. I laugh to myself but it just turns into a dry coughing fit. I lift my helmets face guard only to let a mouthful of blood fall to the dry, charred ground. Why is the ground burned? Was there a fire?

Wait... I need to do something. Fire? Flames?

That’s right. I’m supposed to rekindle the Flames. Or was it...

When I received the Darksign, I was disowned. My father contacted the church. They had me cornered and then sent with the rest of the masses North. We were forced into the asylum. My sword, my shield, both taken. I was given something... what was it? How long ago was that? What... what time is it?

I try to stand from the broken ground, but my legs buckle under me. I fall to the side but I’m just too tired to catch myself. My armour clatters and I land on something. I try to shift my body but only manage to get on my back. There’s something snapping. Arrows? When did those get there? From the ground, I can see something to lie against. I drag myself the few feet to it and manage to sit up. I have a shield. When did I get that?

Yes, I know, it was back at the asylum. Another Knight. I knew him... didn’t I? He gave me the key, I still have it. He let me escape. I wish I could see him again. I’m sure he’s still out there, somewhere, helping others. He gave me something else. A flask? Yes, the Estus Flask.

I escaped. Then I was brought here. Or... was I brought somewhere else first? I met another man. Rather crestfallen, that man, but he was a good man. He told me where to go, how to survive. I owe that man my life. But... I’m not alive, am I?

I lived once, I know that.

I look around and I can see someone. They’re lying face down in the ash. Ash? Was there a fire? They’re wearing armour, black and ornate. Were they here to save someone? Protect someone? There’s broken towers here and there now, I can see. Was this a castle?

I saw a castle once, a beautiful one. It shone like the sun. I was there for something. What was it? There were two people there, other knights I believe, but wearing the most elegant gold. I... I killed them, didn’t I?

There were others. Four kings even. I found them... nowhere, actually. They were nowhere, weren’t they? A wolf. He was protecting a grave. A dragon, but... without scales. He read, I believe. Someone’s mother, but too far gone to live. I know I had to kill her. She was in so much pain. And a skeleton... wait... that can’t be right, can it? He walked with a limp, but one as if he carried the weight of death on his shoulders.

Then... I came here? But where was here? That knight might have known, but I know they’re dead.

How do I know that? Oh. Right. I killed them. I killed them all.

I force myself to stand, pushing my weight down through my sword as a cane. This is the kiln. This is the First Flame. I fought from the Undead Asylum to the land of Lordran to the city of Anor Londo to the depths of Lost Izalith. I am the Chosen Undead. I lived once.

I turn to face the interior of the room. There stands a man I once saw as a god. He’s smaller than he must have once been, shrivelled to a husk. He’s staring at the dying embers of the First Flame, watching the reason he burned for untold centuries fade away nonetheless.

I raise my weak arms and ready myself. He hears me, and turns to face me. His face is so gaunt, eyes sunk, skin grey and stretched. His sword is as large as a horse and it bursts into an inferno. I’m terrified. I know I’ve died, but I still fear death. With every death, I lose more to the void. Memory. Sanity. Self.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look, and feel the warmth of the sun. A golden glow. A man I met. The most optimistic man I’ve ever met. One I’m proud to call a friend.

“Let’s face this together, my friend,” he says to me, “One last hurrah.”

I lived once, but I will ensure everyone after always will.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Dark Souls II happened.  
Comments and criticism welcome.


End file.
